Four Thrones
by Angeladex
Summary: Four Thrones. Four Monarchs. Four Crowned Heads to rule the seat of Aslan's grace, in Narnia. Characterbuilding, mostly, and thusly very...concise. Chap 2; Edmund. Chap. 3: Lucy. Rated K so far, and will have four chapters. :) Review please!
1. Susan the Gentle

The young Monarchs had given into temptation again. Little Queen Lucy was on High King Peter's back, positively shivering. All of them were completely drenched, of course. Queen Susan seemed to have gotten the least of it; her hair wasn't plastered to her like Queen Lucy's was, but it was starting to curl in different places, reacting to the damp.

Queen Susan, who had, after what would come to be known as the 'Battle of Beruna,' publicly and politely declined what Aslan was asking of them. She had firmly inferred that, now that the battle was over and done, the four of them really needed to be heading home; they were only children, after all.

Not many had heard Aslan's loving rebuke, but one clear part of it seemed to pierce the assemblage to the quick. _Narnia yet has need of you, dearheart, and you will make a wonderful Queen._

It had been scant weeks since putting the battle behind them, and the four of them had been finding their feet gamely enough. It helped that the previous Monarch, usurper though she was, had set the bar so low, King Peter joked.

Aslan's Spring was fully entrenched, as though no Winter had ever halted it. The trees were lovely, but the Trees were trying their best to out-do each other with Spring foliage, and every day the walks around the Cair seemed to grow lovelier and lovelier.

King Edmund, it had to be said, had taken to learning swordplay like a fish takes to water, despite having no human teachers to help him learn. The young Kings practiced swordplay every day but Restday, from before dawn until breakfast, which they ate ravenously with the Queens, after they finished their own early morning toilette.

Evenings free of Royal business often found the Sovereigns at the surf, like tonight, shoes discarded, toes in the waves, giggling and splashing…like the children they were.

They worked well together and were developing into graceful and kind Rulers. Their subjects respected Aslan's choice, and Adam's race, and subsequently thought of them as just what they were: Their Kings and Queens.

But they were children. How easy to forget that they were children.

It was usually Queen Lucy who began the tease, skirts held high as she pranced deeper into the surf, kicking water at the Kings.

King Peter was usually the first to go under, and he took revenge on whoever was foolish enough to be caught.

Queen Susan was always the one to alert their Guard; distant, but present, to afford much longed-for privacy to the four. She asked for towels and blankets to be fetched, and something hot to be put on to warm them when they returned.

When new hires came to ask employment at the Cair, it was Queen Susan they passed through first, after being vetted by the Chamberlain. She was by far the easiest to guard, as compared to the Kings of Narnia, who were forever looking for trouble and climbing things they oughtn't and fretting their valets to tears.

Queen Susan; gracious, graceful, and already very beautiful, with her long, dark hair and gentle smile.

Queen Susan, whom Aslan said would make a wonderful Queen.

Queen Susan, who, throughout the Cair and beyond was already beginning to be called 'The Gentle.'

* * *

AUTHORS NOTE

Done for a group on tumblr. I've wanted to flesh out my own headcanons for this series, and I liked the idea of a fourshot, so look forward to the rest!

I love Susan. Wholeheartedly. Fight me.

~Angeladex


	2. Edmund the Just

King Edmund remembered to wear his crown, today. He ofttimes forgot, and needed reminding to put it on. In the beginning, it was something more…deliberate. A sort of punishment he gave himself. He hadn't accepted his own role as King of Narnia, and therefore was literally rejecting the crown.

He used to walk about and correct everyone's salutations.

"Good Morn, King Edmund."

"Oh, it's…it's just Edmund. Just Edmund is fine."

"Hello, Your Majesty."

"Just….just Edmund."

He liked it best to do weapons training. For he was a student there, and a fair one. He was not a King, and was not addressed as such, there.

And it was there that he was rebuked most sternly; Oreius cuffed him firmly upside his head and scolded him for not being present in his training; such was unacceptable. It was unsafe, it endangered his friends and comrades, and 'a King is held to higher standards.'

"I don't want to be a bloody King anyhow," Edmund had snapped. (It must be noted that, had Queen Susan been in attendance of this quarrel, she would have been aghast at his choice of language.)

"And yet here you stand; Aslan's choice. Narnia's choice," Oreius had come back immediately, not to be cowed by a tantrum. He was a much wiser Centaur than _that_.

"Not _my_ choice," had come the hot reply. "And not Narnia's choice. If she…if they knew."

"They do, my King. And have chosen you, anyway."

King Edmund made no reply.

"What's more, _I_ know, my King. And _I_ choose you."

And Oreius had lowered his forehooves and bent low and bowed. It is not an easy thing, for a Centaur to bow. But he did. And Edmund endeavored to make him rise again.

"Please, don't. It's..it's just Edmund. Not 'King.' Not here. Please."

"It was _I_ who freed you that night, from the clutches of the White Witch and her Fallen. It was _I_ who gave you three cloaks for sleeping, when you feared you'd never know warmth again," Oreius said firmly, and he did not rise. Bowed, he was able to look his King in the eye, and he didn't look away for an instant.

"It was _I_ who gave you meat and rations; who comforted you, when you feared going aught further. When you said she would be mad, if she had to fetch you. If you didn't go back willingly.

"It was _I_ who encouraged you through our journey. And when you dropped from exhaustion, it was _I_ who carried you on my back."

And King Edmund looked abashed, and said nothing in interruption of his teacher.

"And when asked by my comrades whether I would support a traitor as a King, it was I who answered, 'to the death.' And I would do the same again and again. And so, when any have the _temerity_ to question the legitimacy of _my_ King, even if it's you yourself, Your Majesty, I believe that there is a problem between myself and that individual. Now." Oreius stood painstakingly, then, to his full (and impressive) height. "Do we have a problem, my King? Or do we have an understanding?"

"There's no problem, Oreius," Edmund answered meekly.

"Good," Oreius answered with an air of finality.

And King Edmund stopped arguing and correcting everyone's greetings. And he stopped any sort of behavior that even _implied_ he thought himself unfit for his Crown.

Because he and Oreius didn't need a problem. They had an understanding.


	3. Lucy the Valiant

She was brightness and light personified. Of the four Monarchs, surely all were beloved, all were revered, respected, and liked. But only one could completely break barriers by the sound of her laugh and the pure joy of her radiant smile. Only one could take your breath away, to watch her dance, or play.

The newly instated Monarchs were paid visits by the neighboring kingdoms, who sent ambassadors and emissaries. When Edmund groaned that they'd never get anywhere with the stiff, formal Duke from Terebinthia, it was Lucy who won him over, smiling like she did, and asking him about anything and everything, and the man's face was transformed when he heard Lucy laugh. Any trace of hardness was gone, after that, and he was quite cheerful the rest of his visit.

Queen Lucy the Valiant was the not-so-secret favorite of all of Narnia. And how could she not be? Queen Lucy, who found such joy in every aspect of her kingdom and its subjects. Queen Lucy, who could make friends with anyone with whom she spoke, and did, often. The Narnian court that made up the bustle of the castle proper was, on any given day, largely populated by those who had accepted an invitation to tea by Queen Lucy.

Queen Lucy almost caught her death of cold because she had made friends with the Nereids and Merpeople, and being their friend sometimes meant one was very wet indeed; unlike the Naiads and River Gods of Narnia's many freshwater streams and rivers, the Nereids and Merfolk could not venture far from the great Eastern Sea.

Lucy orchestrated picnics often to be held in the surf, that all of her friends might attend, much to the despair of their ladies' maids and valets, who knew the temptation their charges often succumbed to, when there was seaweed in abundance, just waiting to be casually thrown at the back of someone's head when they weren't looking…

When the alliance of Narnia's Army was formalized, a special room at Cair Paravel was chosen for the ceremony; one whose entire eastern wall was gone, that the Merfolk might attend and elect their own Generals and Captains.

Narnia, as a kingdom, had lived so long under oppression and tyranny—and Lucy herself had come from such bleak circumstances, in the war—that it was almost like…they needed one another. For no one whole-heartedly embraced Narnia's need to celebrate…everything. Quite like Queen Lucy did. And no one sang as heartily, nor danced as merrily, nor _lived_ with such fervor as did Queen Lucy.


End file.
